


Electricity

by angharadismyhero



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: D/s undertones, Dragon Age II - Freeform, Kink, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, as things get kinkier, confused Hawke, d/S overtones eventually, dom/Fenris, really horny Hawke, sub/Hawke, vaguely canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:51:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5218652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angharadismyhero/pseuds/angharadismyhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke has some sort of feelings or something towards Fenris, but doesn't want to mess anything up. He doesn't even really understand what is going on, other than really enjoyable and frustrating constant tension. Fenris has some desires and needs that he wants to express. They might be able to work it out, if the strange tension between them doesn't electrocute Hawke first - and if Fenris can understand just how willing Hawke is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have a weird dislike for Dragon Age fics about the playable character, since it sometimes feels a little like self-insertion fic and we all have dramatically different views of who our Hawke/Warden/Inquisitor is. But this came to me as a thing I wanted to see Fenris doing, and I just romanced him in my last play through (as a female Hawke, but this seemed like it needed to be male). So far the Hawke in this story is very much like how I play my Hawke but ALSO very unformed, so other views of Hawke should fit him well. 
> 
> I plan on adding more, and kinkier, chapters, if they come as easily to me and if there is any interest. This is mostly for porny purposes but there will be big important feelings at some point, I think. Actual plot might be a little light.

Hawke wasn’t sure when the electricity had actually started. He just knew that at some point, somewhere after finally killing that bastard Danarius but probably before fighting those bloody awful shades in Sundermount, being around Fenris had started to make everything somehow sparky. 

Not Anders-magic-and-disaster sparky, although that could work as a metaphor, really. More of a state of constant awareness of Fenris, and his body, and where it was in relation to Hawke, which was always too close and not quite close enough, and some sort of shared intensity that Hawk might be imagining. If he wasn’t imagining it, every time he was around Fenris it felt like static was building, and every time they talked or accidentally touched it was like the static had built up enough to shock them both. It was driving Hawke mad. 

The most recent mission had not included Fenris, mostly because it did include mages and Hawke just did not need that type of complication on top of the inherent drama of Anders. After spending all day crashing around a tunnel full of unnaturally large spiders, Hawke found himself back at home, trying to relax but pacing instead. He wanted to talk to Fenris. That was odd. Fenris wasn’t always good company. Hawke took a bath instead, scrubbing spider ichor out from under his nails and finding something fuzzy in his beard that he immediately removed and refused to think about.

The bath didn’t help anything other than the smell. Hawke gave up and strolled over to Fenris’ crumbling mansion, where he found the elf engrossed in a game of diamondback with Donnic and Varric. 

Fenris, who had never invited him to his no longer secret gambling nights, showed no surprise at his arrival. He greeted Hawke with a nod and dealt him in. “Hawke. You have coin, I am sure.”

Hawke settled in naturally, joking with Varric and briefly discussing swordsmanship with Donnic. His chair was comfortable, the company good, the game going well. Everything brought him comfort after a long day, except the line of tension cracking between him and Fenris. 

“It smells slightly less of corpse in here, Broody. It works for the place.” Varric played his hand and smiled genuinely at Fenris. No one would admit it out loud, but the party had become quite fond of their temperamental elf.

“Yes, I disposed of the remaining bodies. I have had unexpected numbers of visitors of late.” Fenris’ tone was light but his eyes were on Hawke, not Varric, as he answered. 

“I do rather prefer the company of the living to the dead.” Hawke looked back at Fenris and ignored the shiver of pleasurable terror that came from staring him straight in the eyes. 

Two hours later, Hawke had lost all his coin and was somehow sitting much, much closer to Fenris than he was when he arrived. He wasn’t entirely sure which of them had moved, or of both had, but every time he moved his arm he brushed against the elf. Neither moved, but neither spoke of it, and Hawke thought he might not be imagining the way Fenris seemed to shift to maintain the contact when either of them moved. 

___________

A week later they had all survived several days of bandits and thugs due to Hawke’s questionable family relations, and Hawke had invited them all back to the Amell estate to, well, drink their troubles away. He was slightly surprised when Fenris showed up with Isabella, since group gatherings involving mages were not his preferred place for relaxation. 

Wine softened, rather than exaggerated, any conflicting opinions that evening though, and Hawke congratulated himself on the entire idea. Merrill was a charming drunk, and Varric’s teasing remarks about questionable magical practices were friendly. Even Anders kept his responses to cats and the clinic. 

And Hawke, of course, had been drawing closer and closer to Fenris as the night and the drinks went on. In one more contemplative moment he wondered why this was different from his normal flirtations. He was no stranger to romance or its physical pleasures, and lacked no confidence in making his intentions known. Fenris, though, seemed different in all possible ways. The idea of acknowledging the buzz of what he hoped was mutual attraction was oddly terrifying. He had no idea how Fenris might respond to any romantic overtures, and he needed him to keep fighting at his side. 

“Fenris, I’d love it if you could teach me that one move you do, with the sword, not the chest thing. Where you almost take flight. That’s not from the lyrium, right?” Hawke wasn’t just complimenting Fenris as an excuse for conversation, he was truly in awe of how the warrior had taken down several bandits down with ease that afternoon. 

“Only in part. I do believe I could teach you, although the learning might strain even your significant skills. I should not want to cause you injury if you struggle with the technique.” 

“Fenris, you could cause me anything you wanted, I wouldn’t mind!” Hawke realized after the words had escaped his mouth that that was an unintentional innuendo if he had ever uttered one. Probably unintended. Unintended in vocalization, at least. 

“That’s an invitation if I’ve ever heard one!” Isabella laughed and raised her empty glass to Fenris, who just rolled his eyes and refilled the glass. 

Hawke stood to fill his own glass and Merrill, cheeks pink, stole his chair. “Fenris, Fenris, do you remember that Orlesian noblewoman in the entirely fur coat?”

“Yes Merrill, the one that reminded you, somehow, of griffins.” 

Hawke looked at the two of them, and his stolen seat, and sat on the floor between them, back leaned against the legs of Merrill’s chair and his legs stretched tantalizingly close to Fenris’ legs, bare feet pointed slightly toward the fire. 

“I agree with Merrill, Fenris. We should get a griffin.” 

“The next griffin I find I shall endeavor to capture and tame, just for you Hawke.” 

“Hawke, this has been lovely, but the barmaid is going to end her shift at the Hanged Man soon, and I would just love to be there for that.” Isabella set her glass on the floor and stood, flaunting her assets just enough to make her intentions even more clear. “Be sure to enjoy yourself as much as possible tonight, boys.” 

“I’ll walk you back to the Hanged Man, Rivaini.” Varric stood, barely wavering, and held out an arm to Isabella. 

“I can take care of myself, Varric.” She reached over and draped both arms over Varric’s arm anyway. “Although I won’t deny myself these lovely muscles if they’re offered!” Varric chuckled and led her out, waving over his free shoulder to Hawke. After their departure the rest of the group began to make their way towards the door, Anders promising to get Merrill home safely and Aveline unusually affectionate towards Donnic.

Hawke was left sitting by the fire, legs leaning against Fenris’ chair. Fenris made no move to follow the other companions. His gaze rested on Hawke, clearer and more intense than Hawke thought he could stand. He couldn’t look at Fenris, but looking away was worse. He was just drunk enough to want to say something, to ask if he was alone in feeling the electricity or if Fenris felt it too, and magnified it, and sent it back in ever increasing sparks. And he was just sober enough to be terrified to speak. 

Hawke stretched out his leg, brushing it against the leg of Fenris’ chair and then Fenris’ leg. It was a move calculated out of cowardice and desire and Hawke knew it. Fenris didn’t move away, but reached leaned forward and placed his hand on Hawke’s bent knee. He tilted his head just slightly to the side and looked into Hawke’s face, pressing his hand more firmly onto Hawke’s knee and slowly rubbing his thumb against the inside of his leg.

“Hawke. Stand up.” Fenris’ voice was surprising, and rough, and beautiful, and Hawke moved to his feet quickly without thinking to ask why. 

Fenris took a breath, and paused, and nodded in agreement with something he had not said, and spoke again. “Take off your clothes.” 

It was more than electricity, it was lightning. It took Hawke’s breath from him. His fingers shook slightly as he unbuckled his belt and dropped it to the floor. He closed his eyes and pulled his tunic over his head to stand bare chested for a moment, before remembering his boots. He tilted slightly while pulling them off, standing on one foot and then the other, before sliding his leather pants down his hips and off as well. He stood before Fenris in his smallclothes, uncertain. 

“All of it.” 

Hawke’s hand stopped at the waist of his smalls, hesitant. Fenris just leaned forward and stared, an eyebrow raised so slightly. 

Hawke pushed his smalls down and stepped out of them. He could afford good clothes, but he still spent his life fighting. His arms and chest were firm with muscle, his shoulders huge even out of armor. The scars on his chest and abdomen only emphasized the strength and shape of his body, and the hair on his chest matched the dark and tousled hair on his head. The hair below his navel ran down, and thickened, around a cock that was already hardening from anticipation and the predatory way Fenris was looking at him.

Fenris stood then, and reached out to run his hand along the side of Hawke’s face and down to his chest. When Hawke moved, to reach his own hand out, to also touch, Fenris stopped him.

“Don’t move, Hawke. Please.” And Hawke obeyed. He stood still, staring down at Fenris, as he rubbed his right hand back up his side and across his chest. He stayed still as Fenris lay his other hand on Hawke’s waist and slid it across his stomach and just so slightly into his dark hair. Fenris rubbed his thumb against Hawke’s nipple, a slow and deliberate massage, and smoothed his other hand down his side to his hip and thigh. And then he stepped back and sat back down. 

Hawke was fully hard now, despite the relative economy of touches. His cheeks were pink with desire and faint embarrassment, and the head of his cock pinker still with pure need.

“Fenris … “ Hawke wasn’t sure he understood what Fenris wanted, but he knew he didn’t want it to stop. It couldn’t stop here, now that it had started.

“I want you to touch yourself. Bring yourself to completion like you would were I not here.” 

“But what are you … what are you going to do?” Hawke wanted to do it, but he also wanted so badly to touch Fenris. 

“I am going to watch you.” Fenris rested his elbows on his legs and leaned forward again. He was smirking this time. “And perhaps I will offer direction.”

Hawke groaned, and gave in. He wrapped his left hand, large and scarred, around his cock, and began to work himself as he had so often alone. First slow thrusts, along the top of the shaft, to tease himself even more. He rubbed his hand over the head and down again, and back up. The slightest glisten of moisture from the tip slid down to catch in his fingers. 

“Touch yourself with your other hand. Your nipples, I think. Pinch them.”

Hawke reached back up with his left hand and pinched his right nipple between his fingers, and gasped. His grasp on his cock tightened and his pace quickened, and he stopped trying to control his panting breath. He had never held back on making noises if he felt like it, but being watched so closely made everything different. 

“Now your balls.” 

Hawke cupped his balls in his hand and tugged gently, pressing his fingers into the hot flesh just behind them. His fist moved rapidly and urgently around his cock and he felt the tingling pressure start to build. “Fenris…” he was whimpering, he could tell, and moaning. 

“Yes, now, let go Hawke.” 

Hawke thrust into his fist for just seconds more and then came, hand still wrapped around his balls and Fenris’ name still on his lips. He came hard, and shook, and spilled on the floor in front of Fenris, who stared the whole time like he had never seen such an amazing sight. 

Hawke came down from his orgasm shaking and relieved and confused, and Fenris stood. He did not touch Hawke again, but the electricity had not diminished. 

“Good night, Hawke.” And before Hawke could say anything, could make some suggestion or protest or at least ask what had happened, Fenris turned and left. 

Fenris walked the three turns, one arch, and three doorways back to his decrepit mansions with a raging, painful erection. As soon as the door closed behind him he turned, braced himself against the wall, and thrust his hand into his tight pants. His attentions were furious and rough and his relief fast. 

“Maker. Fuck.”


	2. Escalation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After even more tension, things come to a head between Fenris and Hawke, again. Fenris still sucks at emotions but Hawke is more than happy to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is from Fenris' point of view - or so I hope, after correcting several weird point of view and tense issues! Good grief. Enjoy! Pretty much all porn again.   
> Chapter contains some physical restraining, emotional confusion, submission.

Fenris was brooding again, drinking wine alone, straight from the bottle. 

That, as Varric would say, escalated quickly. Fenris had spent weeks torturing himself, sure that whatever strange, unpleasant thing he felt toward Hawke was completely in his own mind. They had flirted before, of course, but Hawke flirted with everyone. He was less blatant than Isabella but no less desireable, it seemed, to both men and women. That he would want Fenris was unexpected. That he would not just tell Fenris what he wanted was even more so, but unless Fenris was mistaken, Hawke did not lack interest. The entire thing was awful and very oddly appealing. 

And so Fenris had let himself lose just a little bit of self control. Weeks straight of crackling tension when they were together and more vivid fantasies than he would confess to when they weren’t had done him in. Hawke, slightly drunk and apparently willing to … 

Fenris threw his bottle of wine into the fireplace rather than continue that thought. Willing to obey, of course. Had anyone ever obeyed him before, without threat of sword or fist? Everything of physical pleasure was new to Fenris, but he could not deny that he enjoyed Hawke’s company, respected his skills, appreciated his body, and was fascinated by his behavior during their encounter. And now he wanted more, of all of it. What would Hawke do if he asked? The ideas filled his head and swelled his cock and left him with no recourse other than throwing things and angry solo ministrations. 

And so two weeks more passed in which the electricity crackled between them and was not spoken of. Fenris was sure Hawke would say something, he always said something and then more something and more until there was some sort of trouble, but neither spoke. It was as if the incident - the Incident - had never happened, except Fenris was now rather concerned that the rest of the party could tell that he and Hawke were magnetically drawn together. No matter where they sat or stood or fought, Fenris found himself so close to Hawke that breathing brought their bodies together. 

Hawke took Fenris with him to wipe out a house full of Crimson Weavers so he would finally stop getting ambushed in his own damn neighborhood. They didn’t seem to account for the Invisible Sisters though, and the evening turned into one messy fight after another. Fenris found himself wondering if Hawke had an actual death wish, or if there were more people out to get him than any of them knew. Either option made him irrationally irritable. 

“The hate you inspire is unfortunate.” Fenris stood after cleaning his sword on the clothing of the assassin in front of him. 

Hawke chuckled, louder than the remark justified. “And here I thought you were the only one who hated me that much!” 

Fenris lifted his gaze from his sword and looked at Hawke in confusion. “I do not hate you, Hawke. Why would you think that?” 

“Fenris, you have barely spoken to me today, other than to snarl. And to stop that big fucker from hitting me with a bloody huge axe, for which I am grateful, but which didn’t really require speech!” Hawke ran a grungy hand through his hair and sighed. “Look, it’s been a terrible day. You can be miserable if you want to.”

“Broody, you have been even more sullen than usual lately. I thought you just hated all of us.” Varric stopped picking the lock on an chest left inexplicably in a corner. “Unless something actually is wrong. Or more wrong than usual for any of us.”

“Enough with all of you!” Fenris turned to stalk off down an alley, reminding Hawke strongly of an angry housecat. A beautiful, deadly, large housecat. 

“Fenris, come back, I’ll feed you wine. Bodhan brought me some stuff I think you’ll like.” Fenris paused, and Hawke continued “I’ll make Varric take Anders to the Hanged Man so you don’t have to put up with him. Unless you want to be even more miserable.” 

“I resent that implication!” Anders looked ready to pitch a particularly well-aimed insult before Varric stepped in.

“And I resent having to babysit you, but here we are. Come on Blondie, you need some food. I’m putting this on your tab, Hawke.”

Fenris followed Hawke back to the Amell mansion in silence, his irritation at the assassins, and Varric, and Hawke’s existence and his face and body and everything growing with each footstep. The door closed behind them and Hawke peered into the dark parlor. 

“Looks like everyone is out or asleep. I’ll go get the wine. Maybe a glass, if you want to actually use one. Or you can drink your misery away out of the bottle, I won’t … what?” Fenris had gotten much closer, and was glaring. “I did do something, then. What?”

“If anything is making me miserable, it is you.” Fenris was backing Hawke up against the wall and couldn’t stop. “I do not know what to do about you! I do not understand this!” 

“Fenris? I think I told you before, accidentally. Do whatever you want.” 

“Andraste’s tits Hawke - “ Fenris lunged forward and slammed Hawke against the wall with his left hand. He grabbed Hawke’s left arm in his other hand and slammed it against the wall too, next to his head. Fenris couldn’t reach his arms over Hawke’s head but Hawke wasn’t moving. Hawke looked stunned, but didn’t resist, just stared down into Fenris’ face and licked his lips nervously. 

Fenris leaned in and pressed his face into Hawke’s neck and inhaled. Hawke smelled almost unpleasant, sweaty from exertion and possibly still wearing someone else’s blood. It was delicious. Fenris breathed out and paused, and then grabbed the skin below Hawke’s jaw in his teeth. He bit, hard but not enough to break skin, and slid his tongue over the marks his teeth left. 

Hawke gasped in surprise, but Fenris thought it might be from surprise, not displeasure. His body arched off the wall, pressing into Fenris invitingly. Hawke, uncharacteristically tentative, wrapped his huge free hand around Fenris’ hip. 

“Ahh, no. I think not.” Fenris took the hand off his hip and pressed it on the other side of Hawke’s head. He was shorter and slighter than the human, but still a warrior, and strong. Hawke tested Fenris’ grasp, sliding against his callused hands, and could not easily free himself. 

“Anything you want, Fenris. Anything.” Hawke stilled in Fenris’ grasp. 

“I think you might not understand the breadth and depth of what I want, my friend.” With one final gaze into Hawke’s eyes, Fenris crashed his mouth into Hawke’s. His lips, so suited to sneering, were full and firm, and for a moment Hawke just endured the onslaught. Then Fenris had his bottom lip in his teeth and was tugging, biting, just hard enough to be painful, before pressing back into Hawke’s lips and pressing his tongue between them. 

Fenris broke away suddenly, dropping Hawke’s hands and turning away. “I cannot do this. What I know...what I want. I will hurt you.” 

“And you will enjoy it?” Hawke was still slumped against the wall, hair disheveled and lips red. “Fenris, I want you to enjoy it.” 

“I do not understand. Hawke, I do not understand the way … people like you. Do this.” Fenris, to his disgust, was still hard and it was still obvious through his tight leather pants. “I do not know how to enjoy another person like you do, without losing control.”

Hawke slid down to sit on the floor. “And I do not understand or know all that has happened to you. But I think I understand something here. You do not need to give up your control, if you do not wish. If you would like, I think I can let you have more control.” Hawke stayed sitting on the floor but stares up at Fenris, a more serious expression on his face than Fenris was used to seeing. “Fenris, tell me what to do. Right now, I will do anything you ask.”

Fenris pressed the heel of his hand into his eye and dropped his arm to his side. He stood in front of Hawke for several moments, watching him sit and not speak. The desire was too great, and the offer too appealing. 

“I want you to...you will put your mouth on me.” Fenris’ voice was nearly a growl now. “First, come here and unfasten my pants.” 

Hawke moved to stand, but stopped once he was on his knees. He crawled towards Fenris on hands and knees, eyes fixed between Fenris’ legs. With shaking hands, Hawke unfastened Fenris’ belt and untied the laces holding those tight pants closed. Fenris wore no smallclothes and a few tugs of the leather allowed his erection to fall forward. The sight of Hawke, kneeling in front of his painfully hard cock, lips parted slightly, made Fenris shudder. 

“Now Hawke, your mouth. Put your mouth on me.” Fenris had no hair around his cock, but his beautiful, silvery tattoos wrapped down around his hip bones and spiraled across his pubic bone towards the base of his cock. Despire the agony they caused him, Fenris almost regretted that the tattoos covered less of his member when he saw the way Hawke looked at them. 

Hawke, still on his knees, leaned forward and pressed his lips around the tip of Fenris’ cock. His skin was darker everywhere than Hawke’s, and arousal tinted his cock a shade of red reaching purple at the tip. Hawke pressed forward until his mouth was stretched and Fenris’ cock was pressing deep against the back of Hawke’s mouth. He sucked, increasing pressure, and bobbed his head back and forth several times before pulling away. Fenris was breathing harder, and Hawke’s cock was so hard that Fenris could see it through his thick pants. Fenris had given no instructions other than to command Hawke’s lips to his cock, and so Hawke returned. 

Hawke ran his tongue along the lyrium markings at the base of Fenris’ cock, tracing each and extending each down the full length of the straight, long, cock. Fenris had never seen anyone look like that before, like each mark was precious and delicious. Fenris was groaning quietly, his hand by Hawke’s face shaking slightly. Hawke pulled one of Fenris’ balls into his mouth and sucked, gently, rolling it over his tongue. 

Fenris thrust towards Hawke’s face, pressing his straining cock against his forehead and his legs against Hawke’s beard. “My cock, Hawke. You will put your mouth on it again. Now.” His tone was harsh and commanding and almost hid how much his voice shook. 

Hawke wrapped his lips around his cock and had begun to suck again when Fenris’ hands wrapped into his hair. With each slide down Fenris’ cock his grip tightened until he was sure it was causing Hawke pain. Hawke only responded with a groan and frantic movements of his tongue against the underside of Fenris’ cock. Finally, Fenris pressed Hawke’s head forward and held it there while he thrust into his mouth. Hawke braced his hands on Fenris’ thighs as the elf fucked his mouth, fast and hard. 

The sounds Fenris was making above Hawke had moved beyond quiet and were rough and frantic, straining out of him more loudly with each thrust. With a guttural cry he pushed forward one last time and held Hawke’s head still as he spilled into his mouth. 

As Fenris pulled away, Hawke licked up the come spilling out of his lips and watched Fenris’ movements. His erection was still obviously straining against his pants, but Fenris showed no sign of caring.

“Fenris, please, may I touch myself?” 

Fenris looked back down at Hawke, lips twisting into an amused smile. “No. No, I think not. But If you need release, I think I will allow that. Lay on your belly. If you can come in your pants, without aid of your hands, I will allow you that release.”

Hawke immediately stretched off his knees and lay down, without any apparent shame or resistance to the command. As Hawke pressed his cock into the floor Fenris stared in amazement at his obvious desire and willing compliance. Fenris reached over and pulled both of Hawke’s hands above his head. Standing above Hawke as he lay splayed on the floor, Fenris pressed a foot into the joined wrists. 

Hawke groaned loudly and gave in, writhing against the floor. With each thrust forward his cock pressed against his pants and the cold stone of the floor. Above him, Fenris delighted in the sight. He could tell that the sensation was pleasurable but not sufficient. Hawke seemed to realize that he needed more pressure, and began to move his hips in desperate circles. His whole body was shaking, his knees banging against the stone and only his arms held still by Fenris’ foot.

Hawke was gasping and grunting now, wordlessly begging his body to comply. Fenris smiled at his efforts and pressed his foot down just slightly harder. With a few final frantic, thrashing thrusts, Hawke cried out and arched against the floor. 

Fenris stood above him as Hawke lay there, panting, for several moments, before rolling over onto his back. Hawke’s face was still red, and a wet spot stained the front of his pants. Fenris moved into a graceful crouch beside him. 

“Are you well?” Hawke just nodded, still breathless. “Good. I trust you will be able to clean up after yourself.” He stood back up. “Thank you, Hawke. Perhaps I understand some of this after all.” 

Hawke didn’t move off the floor as Fenris tied his pants, buckled his belt, and left the manor without another word.


End file.
